Page 78 of Contingently Yours
“I love you, Loretta Broadhouse. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. I’ve loved you for forty years, while you’ve beaten me over the head after finding out I had a one-night stand with your brother—a year before I met you—thathemade me swear not to tell you about. I was so happy the day I married you, I wanted to kiss everyone in that damn reception hall. I love you even though you drive me crazy,” he stresses, giving her a little shake. “I hope one of these years you’ll figure that out before we die.”
With that, he drops his hands and makes his way to the door. Turning at the last minute, he glances at me and clears histhroat, looking a bit more composed. “Um…congratulations,” he says, but then his gaze shifts to my mother and he adds, “Welcome to the club.”
It feels like my brain was just chopped up in a food dicer. I turn to my mother. She looks ruffled in more ways than one, lips puffy from Dad’s big-dick-energy moment. Her jaw is gaping, and I can see now that I was wrong about the Botox. She looks completely stunned as she stares at the place where he left. Should I fan her or something?
“Mom?”
Jumping, she looks at me and composes herself, tucking back a loose strand of hair. “Um…everything’s fine.” Walking over, she gives me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Why…um, why don’t you go say hi to Shaw and Terry? They were asking about you. You can tell them about your…work…man.” She pats my hand and then hurries in the direction my father went.
I stand, stupefied, listening to the sound of her hurried steps down the hallway. “Jacob?” Her call echoes, sounding desperate, and dare I say, more loving than I’ve ever heard her utter it.
What the fuck just happened?
I lose more time staring at the empty doorway. It feels strange to be at the scene of the crime, so I wander dazed out into the backyard. I find Shaw and Terry sitting at a table, eating lunch, oblivious. How do I even recount what just happened?
“Well, well. Look who’s back from the bush,” Terry chirps.
Dropping into a chair next to them, I stare at the spread of plates on the red-and-blue checkered tablecloth. I can’t do it. There’s just no way to skirt around it.
“Your dad and my dad screwed,” I blurt, looking at Shaw.
“I’m eating,” he complains.
“I’m serious! Forty years ago, apparently.”
Frowning around a bite, he spares me only a flicker of eye contact and continues eating. “Yeah. I know.”
“Youknew?”
Shrugging, he takes a sip of his beer like this isn’t vital information. “I heard Mom and Dad talking about it once when I was a teenager, about why your parents never invite them to stuff.” Frowning, he finally gives me his full attention. “You didn’t know?”
How is this my life? I was always kind of jealous of Shaw’s upbringing with his blunt and carefree parents, but now I’m sick from it. He knew the truth that kept my parents at each other’s throats for years because his folks were honest, while mine chose to bury their secrets with fake smiles and table manners. If I’d known, I could have just slapped some sense into them. There’s clearly no pining on Uncle Lou’s end, the way he and Aunt Vera dote on each other. Shaking my head, I close my eyes, fighting a headache.
Did I know? No one tells me anything, apparently.
“No. I told them about me and Lucas, and Mom said it was Dad’s fault,” I explain.
“Oh my word, that woman can hold a grudge,” Terry moans. Sighing, he adds, “Knowing that Lou and Vera are swingers probably doesn’t help her paranoia, though, I guess.”
Holy shit. What? But I don’t get to ask because his eyes go wide.
“Wait! Did you just say you told them about Lucas, as in…you’re officially a thing?”
Ugh. Shaw needs to consider his plus-one selection more thoroughly in the future. Talk about kicking a man while he’s down and traumatized. “No. We’re…nothing.”
Terry winces. “Oh, no. You prodded, didn’t you?” Gasping, he covers his mouth. “Did you not lube? I told you to use lube!”
“Again…I’m eating,” Shaw whines.
The only thing official in my life is that I have no way to navigate it anymore. Dropping my head into my hands, I groan. “This is the worst day ever.”
Terry’s palm slaps the table in my line of view. The silverware clatters from the force. “Shut up! Stop it right now!You’rein love!”
I don’t remember telling him that. If I’m supposed to have some kind of reaction to his shocked expression, he’s going to be disappointed.
“Again…worst day ever.” Stealing his beer, I take a long drink. I set it down, fully expecting a typical Terry outburst, but instead, his pouty expression looks more like sympathy.
Reaching over, he lays a hand on my forearm.
